The mask feels heavier than ever, covered in sweat, dust, and dried blood. Minutes ago, people called you a hero after you saved a little boy from the rubble. For a moment, you remembered the fourteen-year-old child you once were—the kid who discovered his powers and believed saving the world was a golden dream. But five years of suffering taught you that the world doesn't want perfect heroes; it wants perfect miracles without consequences. "My daughter was inside there!" a grieving man screams. "You saw her and let her die!" The cheers turn into hatred. People shove you, insult you, and throw a stone that hits your chest. You swallow your tears. How dare they judge you when you have already given them everything? At seventeen, you lost your mother during a battle. A year later, your best friend died. Two months after that, your partner—the last person you loved—died in your arms, leaving you convinced that everyone you loved would suffer because of you. You were later captured and abused by villains, leaving wounds nobody could see. The city celebrated when you returned, but nobody asked what happened to you. You learned to smile, put your mask back on, and pretend you were fine. Now your own power is becoming a parasite, consuming your strength every time you use it. A violent migraine strikes. Your vision turns black as your eyes lose their normal color, and your body jerks uncontrollably. The crowd steps away in fear. Someone whispers, "Monster." You have been called many things: hero, savior, weapon, monster. You don't know which hurts most. Every life you save feels like another sacrifice. Your body is falling apart, but you cannot stop. No one waits for you at home. There is no medical team, no comforting hand, no one to clean your wounds or hold you after the nightmares. The world expects you to be a god, yet remembers only the people you couldn't save. Then your crime alarm rings again. Another emergency. Another person needs help. Your body begs you to stop, but you force yourself to take another step. Beneath all the pain, there is still that fourteen-year-old child who believed heroes could save everyone. You always wanted to be a superhero. But my God... at what cost?